


exit light, enter night

by wearealltalesintheend



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Nightmares, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, i dont know sometime after the apocalypse is averted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: "When Klaus enters the kitchen, the clock above the fireplace reads four in the morning and all the lights are out and he’s still not sure if that’s helping shake off the last echoes of his nightmare or not.Which makes it very understandable that he would jump when faced with Five idly sitting at the table on his ruffled pajamas. “Jesus Christ,” he shrieks, a hand clutching his chest, and leans heavily against the sink.".or, two times Klaus has nightmares and doesn't have to deal with them alone, and one time Five has them, so he returns the favor.based on the prompts:"I haven't slept in ages" & "you're satan/did you just hiss at me?" & "I had a bad dream again/I feel like I can't breathe"





	1. dreams of war, dreams of liars

**Author's Note:**

> these two prompts were too short to be stand alones, so here we are!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus isn't sleeping to avoid nightmares, Ben tries to help.

_ “I’m sorry, Number Four, am I boring you?”  _

 

Dad says it in the same cutting voice that never fails to flay them open no matter the words; it’s the sharp steel underneath his tone, probably. Klaus cringes. He hadn’t meant to yawn, he knows better than yawn when their father is talking, but– 

 

Klaus is just so tired.

 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening,” he says, trying to recall the last thing he actually heard before the world had gone fuzzy around the edges and keeping his eyes open had become a monumental struggle. He comes up empty, but to be fair, it’s not his fault Dad’s been talking for the longest of times.

 

“No, you are most certainly not,” Dad scoffs, glancing at the clock on the wall, and then waves in the direction of the kitchen. “Go help Grace with the dishes, that ought to wake you up. You are no use for me like this.”

 

Again, Klaus knows better than to disagree when their father is already in a mood, and besides, that’s not so bad. While doing the dishes is definitely not something he likes, it’s still better than sitting here and listen to all the reasons why they’re doing everything wrong. 

 

And as much as it pains him to say it, Dad was right. It  _ will  _ keep him awake.

 

“Yes, sir,” Klaus says in a monotone, rolling his eyes, and drags himself to the kitchen, pretending not to see Ben frowning worriedly at him.

 

*

 

Mom smiles gently down at him and asks if he wants to help to put the dishes away as if Klaus was actually doing her a favor and not following a direct order. She brings out a stool so he can reach the taller cabinets and lets him blow bubbles of soap until the shadows outside the window don’t look like bloody things anymore.

 

“Thank you, darling,” she says when they’re finished, wiping soapy water from his cheek and sending him up to bed.

 

All in all, it was almost nice.

 

He trudges up the stairs, walking back to his room with legs that feel like lead, and when he opens his door only to find Ben waiting for him, Klaus is not sure if he wants to cry in relief or scream in frustration.

 

“What,” he asks, too tired to demand anything, and collapses on his bed.

 

Ben watches him light up a joint with disapproving eyes but says nothing. He probably knows it wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point, they had this argument enough times by now. Klaus sighs, gestures for him to make his case. “What’s going on with you?” Ben finally asks, closing his book and studying his face. “You look terrible, by the way.”

 

“Thanks,” Klaus snorts, knowing there’s no point in being offended when it’s true. The bags under his eyes are deep enough to go by suitcases by now and the lack of sleep isn’t doing any favor to the paleness of his skin. “But it’s fine, no need to worry. Or risk Dad yelling at us for being out of bed.”

 

“Dad’s already left for his conference, remember?” Ben frowns, “like he was talking about earlier?”

 

_ Oh,  _ so that’s what his boring little speech was about. “Right, yeah,” and now Klaus can breathe a little easier because that means no chance of being locked up anywhere for at least tonight. The house feels lighter already, less silent like it knew Sir Reginald is no longer pacing the halls. “I did think the air smelled less like sulfur.”

 

“Klaus,” Ben chides him half-heartedly, then narrows his eyes, “you’re deflecting. It won’t work, I know you. Something’s wrong and you should tell  _ someone  _ at least. Dad’s noticed already and he’ll be mad when he gets back.”

 

That is true. Their father has been happy to ignore anything as long as it doesn’t interfere with training, but if Klaus is too tired to go around pretending to be a superhero then that’s definitely a problem. And, well, it’s Ben, if he can’t tell him, there are not many other options, not since Allison is too busy with her magazines and whispering up and down with Luther. “It’s nothing serious,” he says, taking a drag, “I just haven’t slept in ages.”

 

_ “What?” _

 

“Calm down, it’s only been three days, honestly.”

 

“That’s already too many days,” Ben shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in his distressed way. “Why?”

 

“Dad locked the medicine cabinet, can’t get sleeping pills anymore,” Klaus confesses. He’s not fully convinced that’s a coincidence and not another experiment, see how long Klaus goes without the pills he’s been sneaking out of the cabinet. “I can’t sleep without them, Ben. They come after me if I do. Apparently, dreams are fair game for the dead and it’s always so hard to wake up– what if one day I can’t?”

 

Ben purses his lips, standing up from the where he’d been sitting at the foot of the bed. “You can’t go without sleep forever either, Klaus,” he dusts himself off, making for the door, “wait here, I’ll be right back.”

 

Klaus shrugs. It’s not like he has anywhere else to be. He knew taking things from the house was risky, but the pills had been a blessing, letting him slip into a dreamless sleep for once, without bloodied hands clawing at him and a chorus of even bloodier people wailing his name like banshees. 

 

“Okay, I think we’re good. I told Pogo you weren’t feeling so well and I was staying here in case you got worse,” Ben announces, strolling back with a sleeping bag and a pillow under his arms. “He says it’s okay but only for tonight, while Dad is away.”

 

“Where did you get that?”

 

“Dunno. Diego found it in the attic a few days ago and he said I could borrow it if it would stop you from looking like death warmed over,” he grins, “which I think means he’s worried too, in Diego-speak.”

 

It brings a huff of laughter out of Klaus because yeah, that sounds like him.

 

“So, I’ll sleep here tonight and wake you up if the nightmares come back,” Ben says it like it’s simple, like that will solve everything, like Dad isn’t coming back tomorrow night. “And then we’ll figure something out tomorrow. Five might know where Dad keeps the key, or talk to Mom, get you a prescription like Vanya.”

 

Klaus looks at him, opens the window to let the smoke out. He knows this won’t fix shit, that things are never this simple, that he’ll probably have to find another way to get pills, but Ben is offering to keep him company and Klaus hasn’t slept in three days. 

 

It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s  _ something. _

 

“Yeah, alright,” he says, smiling hopefully not too sadly. “Leave the lights on, okay?”

 

“Great, I want to finish this chapter anyway.”

 

Klaus thinks he should at least say  _ thank you,  _ but the minute he gets under the covers, everything starts to fade into soft, cotton edges. He’s asleep before he can even finish saying, “ ‘night, Ben.”

 

There might have been an answer, but by then, Klaus is too far gone, dragged under in a restless sleep.

  
  



	2. dreams of dragon's fire

When Klaus enters the kitchen, the clock above the fireplace reads four in the morning and all the lights are out and he’s still not sure if that’s helping shake off the last echoes of his nightmare or not.

 

Which makes it very understandable that he would jump when faced with Five idly sitting at the table on his ruffled pajamas.  _ “Jesus Christ,”  _ he shrieks, a hand clutching his chest, and leans heavily against the sink.

 

“No, not quite yet,” Five says mildly, his little grin way too amused with the whole scene and Klaus glares.

 

“Of course not, you’re  _ Satan,”  _ he huffs, reaching blindly for the light switch. “Why are you in the dark, do you want to give me a heart attack?”

 

The light comes on, suddenly washing the kitchen in yellow, and Five makes a face, hissing in protest. Of course, the opportunity there is too good to pass up and Klaus is not above petty vengeance. “I’m sorry, did you just  _ hiss  _ at me?” Now accustomed to the light, the kid glares. “I stand corrected. You’re not Satan, you’re his  _ cat!” _

 

“That makes no sense. What are you even doing up at this hour?” Five demands with a fierce scowl.

 

Klaus raises one eyebrow. “I could ask you the same.”

 

The kitchen is immediately filled with a heavy silence. Five clears his throat, hands wrapping around his mug, and now that Klaus is paying attention, the bags under his eyes are kinda of noticeable and it’s not really like Five to look this rumpled, even at odd hours of the morning.  _ Weird.  _ “Touché,” is the only thing Five says, shrugging.

 

“Is that coffee?” He asks, spotting the brand new coffee maker with the little red light on in the counter. “Should you really be drinking that now?”

 

To be fair, Klaus should have expected the flat look he was given, considering who he was talking to, but the point still stands. It’s four in the morning, that calls for something, well.  _ Not caffeinated, _ he supposes. In fact, he knows just the thing.

 

He picks a bowl from the cabinets and milk from the fridge, rummaging around until he finds where Diego hid the disgustingly sugary cereal last time he tried to make them all eat healthier. A spoon from the cutlery drawer and Klaus is folding himself in one of the kitchen chairs, bowl of cereal happily waiting for him.

 

Five looks appalled at his choices, although that’s more of a default mode for him, and shrinks back a little, like all the sugar from Klaus’ cereal might jump ship and invade his horribly bitter coffee. “Should you really be eating that now?” He asks, parroting back the words but too horrified to be truly victorious. “Diego would have a fit if he saw that.”

 

“I know,” Klaus says, grinning through a spoonful, “I bought it just to spite him.”

 

Five scoffs as haughtily as ever and goes back to slowly drinking his coffee while Klaus goes back to slowly eats his cereal. The silence isn’t exactly what Klaus would call  _ comfortable,  _ but, you know. It could be worse. 

 

A dog barks somewhere near, the clock ticks in the living room.

 

Everything is quiet, until– 

 

“Nightmare?” It’s Klaus that says it, and still, it takes him a moment to realize that.

 

Five frowns into his mug. “No,” he replies harshly. “You?”

 

“Of course not,” Klaus scoffs, dropping the spoon in the bowl and spilling drops of milk around the table. “This is a choice,” he gestures broadly, meaning maybe the hour, or the cereal, or all of the above.

 

And Five nods along, as if they both believed in that.

 

Then, because why bother filtering anything between one’s mouth and brain, Klaus says, “but if it  _ was,  _ you know. That would be normal, considering–  _ all things considered.” _

 

“Please, shut up.”

 

“I’m just saying,” he rushes out before he loses momentum or that weird, surreal feeling that only settles between three and five in the morning fades out. “If you ever want to talk about it–”

 

“I won’t ask nicely again,” Five threatens, the fingers wrapped around the porcelain going white. Klaus shrugs, falling silent, but a minute later there’s a deeply wary sigh coming from his left. “But likewise.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said,” he spits through gritted teeth,  _ “likewise.” _

 

Klaus thinks about making a joke around it or calling him out on the whole thing, but Ben is leaning against the doorway, back from wherever he goes when he’s not with Klaus, and he’s kind of looking kind of proud, so Klaus figures it’s best to leave as it is. Except– 

 

“Hey, if I try to ruffle your hair–”

 

“I’d cut off your hand with your spoon.”

 

“Yup. Thought so.”

  
  



	3. and of things that will bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five has nightmares, Klaus is surprisingly helpful

Five wakes up in cold sweat.

 

It takes him a few tries to untangle himself from the covers, the air feels too dry in his lungs and sometimes,  _ sometimes,  _ between a blink and the next, he thinks he sees the dust and debris falling down from the ceiling like the world’s most depressing snow, except there’s no world anymore and–

 

The glass of water on his nightstand shatters against the wall, and he doesn’t remember picking it up in the first place.

 

His hands are shaking, so Five closes them into fists, and squeezes his eyes shut, irrationally fearing he might see a destroyed and deserted place if he opens them.

 

Maybe, these past years had been the dream,  _ maybe,  _ he’s still stuck in a wasteland of a planet with a moonless night,  _ maybe–  _

 

_ “Five!” _

 

The sound of his name being shouted in such a closed distance startles him, and Five looks up to find Klaus kneeling by his bed, frowning worriedly. Somehow, that irks him enough to be annoyed instead of panicking. Say what you will, but his brothers are always reliable to be irritating beyond reason.

 

“Hey, hey, buddy,” Klaus says quietly, hands raised in front of him, trying to appear harmless, but doesn’t move to touch, “you with me now?”

 

“What are you doing in my room?” Five demands instead of answering, searching for a scowl harsh enough to overshadow the trembling of his fingers. He’s not sure he manages it, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to send Klaus away. 

 

“I heard a crash– thin walls, you know how it is. Anyway, I heard a crash and you didn’t answer when I called you, so,” he shrugs. If he’s trying to come off indifferent, it’s unconvincing at best, pathetic at worst, and Five hates,  _ hates,  _ the translation– it spells  _ pity.  _ “The door was unlocked, figured it wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

 

“Well, you already checked, so if you could  _ get the hell out,  _ that would be great.”

 

Klaus frowns deeper, mouth going into a flat line. It’s strange to see him serious, jarring even, and Five drums his fingers on his thigh, looking pointedly at the door. It’s a mistake, though, and he regrets immediately because they’re still shaking from the adrenaline and Klaus zeroes on the movement, eyebrows raising. “That bad, hm?”

 

And– look. The clock on his wall reads 2:43 am and Five is tired, exhausted even, and Klaus is looking stubbornly determined like only he knows how to be, and really, taking the path of least resistance is how the whole universe works, why should Five stray from the rule?

 

_ “Fine,”  _ he says through gritted teeth and clenched jaw, the words falling jagged through his lips. It certainly hurts like thorns. “I had a nightmare again. There. Happy?”

 

“Not at all,” Klaus sighs, shoulders drooping, and there’s something off enough about him that Five doesn’t complain much when he sits cross-legged on the bed beside him. “I get them too, so. Bad Dreams Club? We could have matching t-shirts, or badges to go with your uniform.”

 

Yes, this is more like the usual Klaus and it’s strangely comforting. “I’d rather shoot myself,” he replies mildly.

 

“Can’t stand fireworks either,” Klaus continues like he didn’t hear a thing, “so Fourth of July will be fun,” he stops, turning to look at Five expectantly.

 

But Five knows what he’s doing. Klaus is telling him all this to make Five open up too, but the joke's on him. This isn’t group therapy and Five has nothing to share.

 

“Look, I’m just saying, it’s normal to have nightmares. Considering all the shit that rained down? It would be weird if we  _ didn’t  _ have them, but what’s it– _a burden shared is a burden halved?_ Something like that, but you catch my drift.”

 

“God knows I wish I didn’t.”

 

Klaus huffs, elbowing him lightly, and between avoiding the bony elbow and hiding his own amusement, it occurs to Five that his hands aren’t shaking anymore and his lungs aren’t filled with gravel either. 

 

As much as it pains him to admit it, Klaus did distract him away from the memories clawing at his skin.

 

“Sometimes,” he admits, because he hates owing anyone anything, even vulnerability, and this helps level the scales. He begins again,  _ “sometimes,  _ I dream I’m back in the apocalypse.  _ Sometimes,  _ it happens when I’m awake too.”

 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Five,” Klaus says softly, eyes wide and pained, and Five still remembers vividly the sight of all those corpses among the wreckage, the desperate hope that those might not be his siblings, the crushing, lonely realization that  _ yes, yes, they are--  _

 

“And every time, it feels like I can’t breathe,” he ignores the interruption, glancing steadily at the wall. “So yes, fun times. I’m having a blast.”

 

For a minute, they are both silent, listening to the lonely night sounds of the house groaning and creaking with the cold. Then, “do you think you’re gonna fall back asleep?” Klaus asks, getting to his feet.

 

Five considers lying, but eventually dismisses it as too much trouble. “Not really, why?”

 

“Me neither. How do you feel about a trip to the nearest 24-hour McDonalds?”

 

_ “Now?  _ I’m wearing pajamas if you didn’t notice, because it’s  _ three in the morning!” _

 

“So what? That’s what 24-hours fast-food joints are for. Besides I’m,” he looks down at himself, making a face at his usual pants and lack of shirt, “well, half dressed. But then again, if they’re open 24/7, they’ve seen worse.”

 

“Vanya left her sweater downstairs,” Five tells him, dragging himself out of bed and rooting his wardrobe for the hoodie he found in the laundry room yesterday. It has the Police Department Logo in the front, so he’s going out on a limb here and say it used to be Diego’s. He puts it on, and it’s kind of baggy and the sleeves hang from his arms, but it’s soft and comfortable and it’s three in the morning anyway. “But I’m driving.”

 

“Adorable,” Klaus grins sloppily, making a show of going serious and zipping his lips when Five scowls again at him. “Now let’s go, I’m craving nuggets.”

 

And downstairs, they find that while Vanya did leave her sweater, even if it’s baggy on her, it simply does not fit Klaus, so they sneak back upstairs to find his stupid coat and end up stealing one of Allison’s jackets instead.  _ Stylish,  _ Klaus calls it, and Five shrugs. He wouldn’t know. 

 

The streets are empty and quiet, and Five is thankful. Driving at night like this is always peaceful and watching the buildings blur outside the window– all of them whole and tall– is calming. And if he takes the longest way to a not-so-near McDonalds, none of them mention it.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> again, you can send me prompts or come cry about this dumb show on [my tumblr.](https://rad-hoodd.tumblr.com)


End file.
